


Braided Hair

by SweetVenom



Series: The Mighty Fall [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Inquisitor has the short pixie hairstyle, Naked Cuddling, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-tough love, Pre-demands of the qun, mentions of bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetVenom/pseuds/SweetVenom
Summary: Pillow talk of Mamas, Tamas, ages and braids.





	

Evelyn panted, beads of sweat clinging to her brow as she lay back next to The Iron Bull, who began untying the elaborate knot on the rope around her neck.

“Wow, Bull, that was…” Evelyn's thought trailed as her heartbeat slowed and her breathing steadied.

“I know! Hmm, I do love the way you look from behind on your hands and knees, Kadan”. Evelyn laughed lightly as he pulled the rope off her.

“Hmm, do you now?” She grabbed his hand in hers and brought it back up to her neck, running both their fingers over the marks where the lead had pressed into her skin, then trailed it down to the dragon tooth that lay just above the swell of her breast.

“Fuck yes”, he growled, pulling his hand away from the the tooth and sliding it up her neck and cheek before settling it in her hair. “Too bad you don't have long hair, then I could yank your head back anytime I please, no rope required”. He gently scratched her scalp with his fingernails, giving her chills.

“I could always grow it out,” she said softly.

“Oh, no, don't grow your hair out for that”.

“Why not?”

“It was just an idle comment”. He mindlessly stroked her ear with his thumb. “You like it short, I can tell. More practical, anyway”.

She was silent for a moment as she adjusted her position, nuzzling into the side of his chest and prompting him to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She took his hand in hers, relishing in the intimacy. For months, nearly a year, she had longed to be close to him like this. Now he was here, in her room, and they were,  _cuddling_. It was almost absurd, but The Iron Bull was so safe and solid, she couldn't imagine sharing a moment like this, in the afterglow, with anyone else.

“I used to have long hair”, Evelyn said after a moment. “When I was young”.

“Huh. I guess I can picture that”. He stroked his thumb on the palm of her hand, a gesture that was becoming increasingly familiar and second nature.

“I hated it,” she laughed. “It was always in the way. It got stuck in everything, the fastens on my clothes, the pews in the Chantry and oh, my brothers used to pull it when we fought!"

“That why you cut it?” His voice was neutrally curious, as though he were holding back wanting to know her better. It was subtle, but the longer Evelyn was close to him, the longer she knew him, the more she felt there was a piece of him closed off, just out of reach. It was the part of him that still belonged to the Qun, the part that was still uncomfortable with being with her in this way. She knew Kadan was not a name for a lover, but for an extremely important friend. She could see the conflict in his eye from time to time, as though he were trying to reconcile his faith in the Qun with using that word, _My Heart_ , to describe someone he was fucking.

She wanted so badly to ask him, but never did. She did not want to squander what she had. She could die tomorrow, get cleaved by a demon or poisoned by a spy, or fall ill and never recover. He could die as well, and she wanted to simply enjoy these moments without facing the hard questions or inadvertantly pushing him away in an effort to draw him closer. Even if neither of them died, and she succeeded in her impossible quest, what then? His superiors would give him a new assignment, and he would be gone. That was what the dragon tooth was really for, _so no matter how far apart we are, we'll always be together_. It wasn't a binding symbol, it was something to hold him close when he was inevitably going to leave her.

She pushed away her racing thoughts, and focused on the conversation.

“No, actually”. She said. “My mother loved my long hair, and when I told her I wanted it cut, she started brushing and braiding it every morning, to keep it out of the way. It was nice, we talked and laughed and bonded, and she'd always manage to pin these elaborate braids up on my head. They were so pretty, she'd put ribbons and beads in the braids, but they also kept my hair up and out of the way”.

The Iron Bull ran his fingers through her hair again. “Ribbons and beads and pins? That I have a hard time picturing”.

“I was young. And belligerent. And more concerned with proving I was tough enough to keep up with my brothers than keeping my hair pretty. My mother was very feminine. So it was like a compromise. I didn't hack off my hair with a knife, she got some pretties in my hair, but it was still up and out of the way. And I got to spend time with mother. She would even braid her own to match mine”, Evelyn's voice turned sad as she interlaced her fingers in Bull's. “She passed when I was 8. Got very sick, went to sleep and never woke up”.

“I'm sorry,” The Iron Bull said gently.

“After that, I tried braiding it myself, but it was too difficult to do. Then my brother, Maxwell, offered to try braiding it for me. He did pretty well, considering”.

“You've mentioned brothers before, but I don't remember the name Maxwell coming up”.

“He started showing signs of magic two years after mother died. When the templars took him, I was furious. I actually kicked one of them. And then I woke up the next day and cut all my hair off. What was the point of keeping it long if Mama and Max weren't there to braid it?”. She snuggled in closer to The Iron Bull. “My father had remarried by then, and my stepmother was furious with my behavior. Assaulting a Templar, cutting my hair, making a scene. In retrospect, it was probably the first step toward going to the conclave”.

“How so?”

“She convinced father that the best way to fix my rebellious behavior was to make me more pious. She wanted me in the Chantry, reading, helping with the services, learning humility and reverence from the fine examples of the brothers and sisters there. Not training with the templars, of course, because she wanted me more demure. I actually spent three months in the Chanters' quarters when I was 15".

"Chanters, you mean this guys that only speak in line from the Chant? Fuck, that must have been mind numbing".

“Oh, absolutely. And I wasn't permitted to leave at all. Slept there and everything. I had nearly the whole damned Chant memorized by the time I was allowed back home”.

“What, really? So if I rattled off a stanza number, you'd know it?”

“Possibly. That was 11 years ago, I credit that particular excursion for my heathenism. Once I knew it all, it stopped making sense. My stepmother was less than thrilled when I announced for the whole house to hear that I didn't believe in the Maker after that”.

The Iron Bull was suddenly laughing. “Oh shit,” he sighed, chuckles still breaking through.

“What?” She tilted her head to look at him quizzically. “It's not that funny”.

“No, no. Its just that… I just realized that until this moment that I didn't actually know exactly how old you are”. He pulled his arms away from her and stretched his hands behind his head. “I had you pegged late twenties, so I wasn't far off. But definitely younger than I thought”.

“What? Really? You didn't research that before you joined with the Inquisition?” he shook his head, and she strained, trying to remember if she'd ever told him her age, or if she even knew his. “Wait, how old are you?”

“Well, let me put it like this: 11 years ago, I was older than you are now”.

She paused, biting her lip, trying to work out the math in her head. “Just tell me. Don't make me guess”.

“39”.

She was still and thoughtful for a moment. She had never given much thought to his age before, but 39 didn't surprise her. The man had years of stories carved in scars on his body. Scars like his were the result of years and years of fighting. Over two decades of military, spy and mercenary experience seemed accurate, looking at at the ghosts of cuts, gashes and slashes that decorated him. She knew looking at his weathered face that he was older; the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his brow and permanent laugh lines were evidence of that. She turned her head up and brought her marked hand to his face, stroking the stubble.

“39, huh?” she planted a kiss on his chin, faintly tasting her juices from their coupling earlier. “That seems about right”.

He made an exaggeratedly fake angry face and rolled over so the was straddling her on all fours. “Hey now, you're supposed say, ‘ _What? 39? That cant be right! You don't look a day over 30_ ’”. He dipped his head down and nipped playfully at her earlobe, causing her to squirm and giggle.

“Says the man who acted surprised to learn I'm only 26”.

“Hmmm” he agreed wordlessly into her neck, the vibrations of his hum sending a shiver across her body.

There was more silence as he trailed kisses along her neck. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensations, occasionally wiggling under his grasp. He suddenly sat up and back, kneeling and still straddling her, though his weight was on his heels and not her lower body. She stared at him, still sometimes dazzled by his stature. He was bare above her, wearing only his eye patch and the dragon tooth she had given him. She watched his eye trail up her body before settling into eye contact with her. He spoke, voices sounding uncharacteristically soft. “I used to have long hair too, when I was a kid”.

She froze and held her breath, intently listening. He rarely talked about his childhood, and she never wanted to ask, never wanted to pry information out of him that he didn't volunteer to share. For him to speak candidly about himself without her prompting him, this was what she wanted.

“My Tama used to braid mine too. Not up, just back. Usually several smaller braids pulled back with a hair tie. Pretty common hairstyle back home. But it was nice. Felt good, she was always real gentle, never yanked”.

“So why did you start shaving it?” she asked, eagar for him to keep speaking.

“When I started my military training. Its not required, as long as you keep your hair maintained and out of the way, but it just seemed easier this way”.

Evelyn reached her hands out to where The Iron Bull was resting his hands on his thighs and laced her fingers with his.

“I would have liked to see that. I have a hard time picturing _Imekari_ Iron Bull getting his hair braided”. She put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Though, I guess I wasn't even born yet,” she teased lightly.

He chuckled and rolled off his heels to sit at the egde of the bed. He cleaned himself off with a cloth kept beside the bed and began dressing, which meant the intimacy was over. She wanted to pull him back and tell him that the Inquisition's reputation could go fuck itself, and she wanted him to stay and Maker damn any self righteous clergy or nobles who would take issue with the Herald unashamedly bringing a Qunari into her bed. But she held back, common sense and pragmatism always at the forefront of her mind. Discretion was necessary. They were leading an army of the faithful, the preparations for the upcoming siege of Adamant Fortress were nearly complete, and their growing prescense in Orlais was sure to bring them an invitation into the empress's Ball soon. But a scandal would certainly shatter the Inquisition's still new and fragile influence in the world. So he would need to sneak out in the middle of the night as he always did.

So instead of begging him to stay, she decided to tease him just a bit more. “I bet you were a cute _Imekari_ ”.

He turned to face her, bringing his bad leg up onto the bed to properly secure the brace on his ankle. “See, now you're just trying to make up for calling me old”. She laughed and sat up on her knees, scooting over to him to plant a kiss on his nose.

“I think you're perfect,” She said softly. When she pulled her head back, she caught the smallest glimpse of conflict in his eyes. What was he thinking? Was he unused to this kind of affection? To being cared for and appreciated as a whole person rather that just a mercenary, just a drinking buddy, just a sex toy?

“You know,” he said, standing up and adjusting his clothes back into place. “I used to brush and braid my Tama's hair. I was always good at it. If you ever did decide to grow your hair out, I could braid it for you”.

She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. There was so much of this man she wanted to know. For him to give her these little pieces of himself was all she wanted. The smile waned when her thoughts spiraled from joy to sadness as the finite nature of their arrangement came to mind. Surely they would die or leave one another's company before such a thing as hair braiding could happen.

“Hey,” he said, shaking her from her thoughts. “What's with the sad eyes?” he asked, noticing her fallen face.

“Oh, its just.. My mother,” she half lied. “All this talk makes me miss her a bit. I'll be fine”. She forced a smile. His face became skeptical, but he didn't press her.

“Its probably time for me to get out of here”. The Iron Bull planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“I suppose”.

“Good night, Kadan”. He smiled at her. “I'll see you tomorrow when we get ready to head out”.

“ Ah, yes, I'd almost forgotten about the Emerald Graves,” she lay back and stifled a groan. “Have I ever told you how much I dislike going to Orlais?”

“Yes, many times over,” he laughed. “That region isn't so bad. I mean, besides the rebels, refugees, giants, and bears. But we won't see any nobles”.

“That's more comforting than you realize”.

He leaned over her and gave her one last kiss. “Good night, Boss”.

“Good night, oh, and Bull?” she called as he began to walk away. “You might want to wash your face. I can still taste myself on you”. She spoke with a giggle.

“Oh, I know. Trust me, I know”. He smirked and licked his lips emphatically. “I was saving it for later”. She dissolved into a fit of laughter at his absurdity.

“Good night Kadan!” she called out, realizing suddenly that she had never called him that before. She wondered for a moment if it was alright, acceptable. His warm smile was reassuring.

“Good night, Kadan,” he replied, and with that, he left her alone.


End file.
